“I come in mirth,” said the gentle breeze,
“To bring the murmurs of distant seas;
I passed o’er the regions of fairest bloom,
Till my pinions were laden with soft perfume;
Where the dulcet tones of the wild bird’s note,
In the boundless regions of ether float.
I have come from the land of Olympus’ pride,
Where the Spartan fought, and the Persian died.
But prostrate palace, and fallen fane,
Of its grandeur and beauty alone remain.